


X-Generation, Part II: Phoenix Rising

by KaiserKris



Series: X-Generation [2]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-20 22:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3667734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiserKris/pseuds/KaiserKris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Magneto's defeat in Washington, the X-Men find themselves hurled immediately into dire threats both cosmic in magnitude and far too close to home. As friends seemingly become enemies and as forces greater than they can contemplate hurtle towards them, how will the X-Men be able to emerge triumphant? What precisely is the Phoenix? And will they survive its emergence? </p><p>Whether together or apart, separated by light years or too close for comfort, the X-Men will be challenged like never before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alphas and Omegas

**The Peak, High Earth Orbit**

 

The sight of Earth from orbit had never failed to amaze the early astronauts, many of whom found their ways of thinking changed forever by the sight of their world below them. There was hardly a person who went out into space who did not remember when they first had a glimpse of their homeworld below them, blue and green, wrapped in wisps of clouds, startlingly small. From space, the Earth was described as beautiful, alive, fragile.

_Fragile is damn right. And nobody down there realizes just how fragile their lives are._

SHIELD was well-known by the global community, first and foremost for creating the Avengers Initiative that had resulted in the launch of the world’s best-known superhero team. It was far less well-known that SHIELD had a counterpart that was responsible for interstellar affairs- SWORD, the Sentient World Observation and Response Department.  _Someone tried really hard to make that work._

“Director, we are getting dissturbing reportss from our agentss in Sshi’ar sspace.” Sydren walked over to Director Brand, passing her the information.

“Give me the overview.” Abigail Brand ordered crisply, taking a sip of her coffee. Wretched as it was, it was still hot and strong. She had a feeling she’d need more of them by the time the day was over.

“The Sshi’ar believe that the avatar of their Phoenix Goddess iss on Earth.” Sydren replied. “They are ssending a fleet to Earth to invesstigate. Including the Imperial flagsship itsself.”

“Jesus Christ.” Brand swore, taking in a breath. “How long do we have?”

“Two weekss, approximately. No more than ssixteen dayss.” Brand could swear that Sydren was looking slightly pale. “We need to find thiss female and give her to them.”

“I don’t want to give anything to those sanctimonious jackasses.” Brand sighed harshly. “But you’re right. We have no choice. I’ll contact SHIELD and get them to transfer their files. We’re looking for females with psionic powers. Probably young. We’ll check our files, but I have a feeling we’re looking at an Earth woman. The sooner we find her, the better. Hopefully whoever it is likes being a living goddess to an interstellar hegemon.”

“It could be worsse, I ssupposse.” Sydren replied dryly. “What do we do if the Sshi’ar decide to conquer uss anyway?”

“Pray that there is a God out there, because nobody weaker than her would stand a chance against them.” Brand replied. “And put some more goddamn coffee on. It’s going to be a very, very long night.”

 

**X-Mansion Grounds:**

 

When Kate had finally gone to bed, probably never to return- Logan had found himself not particularly able to sleep, so he’d gone out into the grounds. He didn’t hunt, exactly, but he liked to follow the animals around, see what they were up to. He had to admit that Charley kept pretty impressive grounds, a lot of it being near-wild land. There were herds of deer, foxes, muskrats and even, occasionally, a black bear or two. It wasn’t the wild forests he was used to back home, but it was a hell of a lot better than nothing.

It was then that he sniffed something, something, or rather,  _someone_ he had hoped he’d never, ever smell again.  _Sabretooth._ His claws instinctively and immediately popped as well over a century of encounters with the man came to mind, the rivers of blood that stood between them, and a the same time, according to Creed, connected them as well. Logan growled and tore off in Creed’s direction, using the brush and trees for as much cover as he could. Creed would know he was coming, but not necessarily exactly from which direction.

He thought about calling the other X-Men, but this was  _his_ fight. Victor had no business with any of them. If for some reason, he did, then Logan would call them. But he wanted the man’s blood himself.  _They wouldn’t understand, couldn’t understand. And I don’t want them to._ The last thing he wanted was for the Boy Scout or far worse, Kitty-  _halfpint,_ to see him fight Creed. They deserved better than that. Creed was Logan’s own devil.

“I can smell you, boy. Come on out.” Victor crowed, laughing as if he’d already won the battle to follow. “Nice house you live in now. Real nice. Bet there’s lots of nice, tasty people in there. Maybe after I deal with you, I’ll pay them a visit. Drag out one of those mutant girls. Someone nice and tender.” His laughter sounded positively diabolical, though Logan knew, from ghastly and painful experience, that the threats weren’t entirely empty.

Logan rushed out as fast as he could, claws at the ready to gut the man where he stood, but Victor simply laughed, grabbing him and throwing him aside, into a nearby oak tree. “The good life’s softened you, boy.”

Logan peeled himself away from the tree and growled, the damage done from the impact already healing up. “Wondering the same about you. Nice suit, asshole.”

Victor chuckled faintly. “Boss likes his men to look good. Unlike you, I actually clean up nicely.” He uprooted a younger tree and swung it out at Logan, who managed to cut it in two with his claws before going back on the offensive, slashing out at Victor, scoring a hit along one of his arms.

“You got first blood, boy. Not bad for a little runt like you.” Victor grabbed both of his arms with lightning speed and slammed him into another tree, shattering it with the force of the impact, splinters of wood digging deep into Logan’s back. Victor’s foot then pressed him down into the stump, grinding the splinters in deeper. Logan growled, gathering his own feet underneath Victor’s stomach and kicking him hard, just hard enough to get him to let go.

Victor growled and slashed at Logan, who managed to block it with his arm, though the claws cut deep, nearly down to the bone.  _My claws might be better, but his are damn sharp._ Logan thrust with his claws towards Victor’s belly but a strong hand stopped him and soon Logan felt himself flying through the air, hurtling directly into a barbed wire fence, the blades of it sticking into his flesh. Reaching out with his claws, he cut free just as Victor was about to pounce on him. Logan managed to roll away as Victor landed heavily on the ground next to him.

Logan immediately jumped on Victor himself, plunging one set of his claws deep into Victor’s shoulder, making the larger man roar in pain and the second ready to pierce into his heart, but Victor grabbed him quickly and pulled him off, even though that would’ve widened the wound considerably. Logan felt strong hands wrapping around his head, pushing him down into the wire, the barbs cutting into his throat now, his blood dribbling liberally onto the ground as the relentless pressure started cutting off his air supply. He slashed backwards, wildly, with his claws, finally scoring a hit on one of Victor’s arms, making him draw back with a growl of pain and allowing Logan to shakily get to his feet again.

It wasn’t fast enough, Logan was still a little shaky from the lack of breath to effectively counter the claws that sliced across his belly, biting deep. It was all he could do to hold his guts in, blood pouring out onto the ground.

“Like I said. You’re getting soft.” Victor’s claws struck again, this time at his throat, before a foot tipped him over. “You should’ve called your friends, boy. But no you had to be a big goddamn hero. Just like your friend, Scott.”

_Scott? What?_

Victor continued to gloat, but Logan didn’t hear anything else, as his vision blurred and faded into black.

 

**Foundlings Orphanage, Nebraska:**

 

Scott opened his eyes, not to the familiar shades of red that he’d seen his whole life, but to a brilliant range of colours that hurt his eyes, assaulted them with unfamiliar shades of green, blue and other colours. _My powers. They’ve shut off my powers._ He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again cautiously. He was bolted into what looked like a hospital bed. He flexed his muscles, tried to squeeze through them, break them.

_Jean._

The thought hit him like a thunderbolt and he redoubled his efforts, straining, trying to kick his legs, screaming in rage and desperation, in pain and determination, until he was too exhausted to continue and he slumped back, bathed in sweat. He willed himself to breathe slowly in measured inhalations, rather than gasp as he wanted to. He stared straight ahead, looking to see if there was a door or a window.

“If you’re out there, whoever you are, you will regret this. My friends will find me, they will hunt you down and you will pay for what you’ve done.”

“Threats, already, Scott? I’m disappointed.” A smooth, refined British voice spoke as the door opened and a tall, pale man walked in, dressed in a lab coat that was somehow less pale than he was. All in all, he looked uncannily like a vampire, black hair contrasting with the colourless skin. A neatly trimmed goatee and faintly glowing, red eyes completed the ensemble. As Scott watched, however, the features faded into the familiar form of Dr. Milbury. “Is that any way to greet your old friend?”

“... no. You’re lying.” Scott strained again at his restraints.

“Oh, I’m a veritable master of deception, but this time? I’m being quite honest.” Essex replied, though this time he spoke in the amiable Midwestern accent of Dr. Milbury. “I kept you here, Scott, I found you, took you in when no one else would. Because I saw your potential. And look at what you’ve become.” Essex walked up to him, tilting Scott’s face so he was forced to look him in the eye. “So disappointing, really. But your genes? Ah, those are as useful as I remember them. I had hoped, perhaps, you and Jean would breed of your own volition, but as it happened, I had to accelerate events.

Speaking of which, I have genetic material to extract from you.” A needle slid into Scott’s arm and he could feel it bore right into his bones. “You’ll be happy to know that I have every intention of letting you go, once I have what I need. It amuses me to see what you’ll do next. No doubt you’ll attempt to rescue your precious Jean Grey. I assure you, she is dead, her mind completely erased. But she will live on, I assure you, at least in a certain sense.”

Essex’s features melted from that of Dr. Milbury into what Scott could only assume was his natural form. Essex smiled coldly. “Congratulations, Mr. Summers. You’re about to become a father.”

 

**Hellfire Club Headquarters, New York City:**

 

“As many of you know, Shaw Industries was attacked by Purifiers, only a few days ago.” Sebastian looked down at the members of his Inner Circle, in turn. Essex was not present, but the others all were, including Pierce, whom he was quite certain was a traitor to the cause. As for Emma and Warren, he knew they were plotting, but that their designs wouldn’t come to fruition immediately. He could afford to string them along, for now. “The Hellfire Club’s vital interests cannot be threatened by these lunatics. The order that we rely on to expand our influence is threatened by their actions. We cannot allow them to continue. We all have resources we can use to make their supply and funding chains more precarious. We also have means of attacking them more directly.”

Donald remained silent, though Sebastian could smell the fear rising off of him. Pierce was nothing but a rank bully in the end, all bluster and sadism when dealing with the weak, but with no guts to stand up to anyone with strength. The others seemed to be listening intently. This, at least, was an issue that he expected Emma would agree with him on.

“We are at a critical point in our mission. We are on the verge of establishing a durable order in which we can operate unfettered. It is the right and I believe, the sacred duty of the Hellfire Club to expand its power and direct the business of the world as we see fit. It is the obligation of the strong to rule the weak. We all know what happens when rulers are as weak as their subjects. Chaos. Anarchy. All very, very bad for business. What I, as your Black King and Lord Paramount, need from you is your cooperation. Yes, we have ranks, but we’re all aristocrats here. We share common interests. Anyone who does not, has no place here among the Inner Circle.” His eyes settled for a moment on Pierce’s.

“Let me put it into plain terms. Purity International has declared war on the Hellfire Club, attempting to assassinate me personally and disrupt our operations generally. They cannot be permitted to exist. Let us erase them from the Earth, together. Only then can we truly get back to business as usual.”

 

**X-Mansion:**

 

“It’s the eye of the tiiiger, it’s the thriiill of the fight, risin’ up to the chaaallenge of all riiivals …” Kitty sang as she went down the stairs in search of coffee, not really knowing that she was broadcasting Survivor’s famous hit to anyone who happened to be awake at that hour. Which was usually not many people. And fewer would be down in the kitchen at this time. Usually it was only Hank or Scott, and she was pretty sure she knew where Hank was. _And good for him._

“Hey Scott! What’s cr- oh. No Scott.” Kitty stopped for a moment. “Huh.” She looked over at the coffee machine.  _No pots made, either. He hasn’t been down here. That’s really weird. Scott’s always down here at this time. He’s usually eating a bowl of plain Wheaties and drinking his horrible sludge coffee, reading the New York Times._

_Kitty. Relax. Maybe he just slept in. We did kind of save the world yesterday. The only reason you’re up is because you’re so high on afterglow that you couldn’t sleep anyway._ Kitty reached down into the pocket of her pajama pants and pulled out her phone, and decided she was going to text him.  _I’m giving him a half hour. If he doesn’t reply, I’m checking his room. It’s weird for Scott not to be up right now._

A loud  _thud_ brought her back to reality as she ran over to see what it was. When she turned the corner to the door, she gasped.

“Logan!” It was clear that the wounds he’d suffered were healing but they were ghastly. Thick mats of congealed blood and … other things covered his belly and a wound on his throat had still only half-healed along with myriad other deep scratches and the remnants of smaller cuts. “Hank!” Kitty cried out as loud as she could. She took Logan carefully and phased them down into the infirmary.

“... someone’s grabbed Scott … attacked me … Creed …” Logan managed to force out of a still-badly damaged throat. “We gotta find the Boy Scout …”

“We will.” Kitty reached over to the alarm button on the wall of the infirmary and pressed it. Hopefully the alarm would wake the other X-Men and get them ready. “Can you help me to get you in one of these beds? I’m sorry, but you’re kinda … heavy to lift by yourself.”

“Wassa matter, halfpint? Not workin’ out enough?” Logan teased softly as he did his best to help her get him up in a bed. “I’ll be good in a few hours. Took a helluva beating, though.”

“I’m not the one who wears two hundred pounds of adamantium on his hairy butt.” Kitty countered, looking down at him once she’d helped him onto the bed. “You sure you’re going to be okay? Don’t lie to me. I hate being lied to.”

“I’ve suffered worse, trust me.” Logan winced. Sometimes the healing hurt as bad as the original injury did.

Kitty then gave Logan a knowing look. “Why didn’t you call for help?”

Logan took a painful, ragged breath. “Was my fight, not anyone else’s.”

“If you weren’t … half-gutted and,  _Logan._ ” Her lip quivered a little, whether it was more in sadness or anger, it was difficult to tell. “You could have  _died._ You can’t just go off and do this stuff by yourself.”

Logan forced himself to sit up so he could look at her even in the eye. “There are some devils a man’s gotta face himself, halfpint. You don’t understand, and believe me, you don’t want to understand. You should go with the other X-Men. Find the boy scout, bring him back.”

“... this conversation isn’t over, Logan.” Kitty glared at him. “I’m not losing you over some stupid grudge.”

“Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, halfpint.” Logan managed a small smile before slumping back down, feeling his guts and various other body parts healing.

 

**X-Men War Room:**

 

“The last communications that Scott had with the outside world can be traced here, to this footbridge, not far from the school grounds. It is a reasonable deduction that his kidnapping happened there, or somewhere nearby.” Hank looked around at the room. “The time that the message was received was 2:14 am. I venture that the kidnapping occurred between 2:30 and 3 am. Scott almost always wears his communicator, but it appears to have been deactivated or otherwise removed.”

Ororo nodded. “We start by investigating the site. Professor, if you would use Cerebro to search Scott’s mutant signature. Hank, see if you can figure out what was said in the conversation Scott had. Something must have seemed urgent, and personal, to get him out of bed and off the grounds at that time of night.”

“I know I’m knew to all this, but I know a thing or two about kidnappings from back home. Stormy, you should take me out there. I’ll find something.” Remy spoke up. “I figure, I go with Logan in a few when he heals up. I look around, he smells around, we find something. Jus’ my suggestion.”

Ororo nodded. “Very well. The rest of us need to be at readiness to move as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the further away or the greater danger Scott might be in.”

“You don’t think it could have anything to do with Magneto?” Bobby ventured. “I mean, he’s definitely got a motivation for lashing out at us after everything.”

“I do not think so.” Xavier answered. “This isn’t Magneto’s style. His vengeance would more likely be some sort of grand gesture. He’d aim to attack the whole team at once, or create a situation in which we would be lured to our defeat. I would not rule out the possibility that one of his followers did this, however.”

"There may be some Brotherhood members who escaped in the chaos in Washington, or other sympathizers drawn by the chaos.” Hank ventured. “Or perhaps one of the myriad anti-mutant factions who have formed in the midst of recent events.”

“It wasn’t any of `em.” Logan said as he staggered into the room, looking half-dead, blood still seeping through his dressings. “There was a man named Victor Creed. Talked about a Boss, I dunno who that is, but the sort of man who can order Creed around- we gotta find the boy scout, and fast.”

 

**Footbridge, near the X-Mansion Grounds:**

 

“Hm, Scotty have himself a real nice car.” Remy looked around it. “Didn’t run into any thieves, I can tell you. No one looking for money leave something like this behind.”

“Not everyone’s you, Cajun.” Logan growled in reply, sniffing around.  _More damn familiar scents. And something I can’t quite put my nose on. Wait. I’d know that smell anywhere. Jean._ “And we’ve got a bigger problem. Jean was here too.”

“... wait, are you sure? Jean?” Bobby’s eyes opened wide. “But she was gone, had left a note and everything. I was sure she’d moved back in with her parents.”

“My nose doesn’t lie, Drake. Jean was here. Her, and Creed, two other scumbags I know, and someone else. Boy Scout got led into a trap. Jean might have been the bait. What else is gonna get someone like Scott to go out here without contacting anyone else in the middle of the night?” Logan growled. He knew that, because he probably would’ve done the same.  _I accepted that she’d chosen Scott a long time ago. Tried not to think about it too much when it became open again. Past just won’t stay buried. Damn it all. Just when I was movin’ on._

“So … who the hell is behind this? I mean that dude who attacked you, I got the impression he as a big strong dude with claws. What about the other … scumbags?” Bobby asked, clearly in thought.

“One’s a woman- technically. Kind of like that girl in the Brotherhood with the shockwaves, but meaner. Way meaner. The other guy, weapons expert. Has a certain talent for changing them.” Logan continued to sniff around. “Scott was bundled into a vehicle. You can see tracks here.”

“Could those people kidnap Jean? I mean, we saw what she can do if she’s pissed enough. She beat the super psychic guy who works with Magneto. Easily.” Bobby emphasized. “I mean, not like it’s gonna stop us, but we’re clearly dealing with someone who can neutralize Jean.”

“Or turn her over to the other side.” Remy thought out loud, though as soon as he finished the words, Logan’s hands were on his throat.

“You so much as suggest one bad thing about Jeannie again, Cajun, and you’re gonna get real up close and personal with these.” Logan popped his claws, waving them not far from his face.

Remy’s eyes opened wide for a moment and then narrowed, looking at Logan. “Maybe you should stop thinking with  _petite Logan_ ? How many powerful psychics are there out there? Maybe someone’s controlling her mind. Maybe someone find something they use against her. You don’t know!”

“Logan.” Bobby said, in a quiet but firm tone. “Look, Remy’s a douchey ballsack, but he’s … he’s got a point. If Jean were in her right mind, she would’ve helped Scott and, probably, they would’ve escaped.”

“Yeah.” Logan sighed, suddenly looking defeated. His claws retracted into his wrists and he let Remy go.

 

**X-Mansion, Subbasements:**

 

Hank McCoy had been hunched over the equipment for a few hours now, with Kitty working close at hand, trying to get back an auditory record of the call. So far, he’d been having little success on his end. Hank looked over at Kitty, who was similarly hard at work, listening intently at the tiny snatches of audio that had been recovered, trying to figure something out. Kitty looked back at him and shook her head.

“This is going to take forever to reconstruct.” Kitty sighed. “Maybe we should try just … reconstructing a segment of it. Hopefully catch at least the voice of the other person and match it to a database.”

Hank nodded. “Perhaps not the last twenty seconds or so, but the twenty seconds before it. It’s worth a try. We may be able to get something useful from it.”

They then started working together on patching together the data, until hopefully, they could get a complete record of what was said. After another thirty minutes or so of work, they were able to play it back in its entirety. Their eyes opened wide.

“Oh my stars and garters.” Hank murmured quietly. “That’s Jean.”

“She … doesn’t sound under duress or anything, either.” Kitty listened again, raising her eyebrow. “Actually, it sounds like … she wanted to get back together with him?”

“That is either Jean Grey or a shapeshifter who is familiar with her voice.” Hank replied quietly. “And that … does seem like it. But that doesn’t match the suggested violence. Or Logan’s encounter. This is very, very disturbing.”

 

 **Penthouse, New York City** :

 

_Daddy said that soon, I would be introduced to the Hellfire Club. That I would become one of their Queens and rule over half the world._

Madelyne Pryor looked forward to the day when that would happen, when she could come out into the light of the public, as a figure to be feared, loved, worshipped, rather than hidden away as she had been much her life. Soon, all of her training and preparation would come into use. She knew her mission, plain enough. She was to charm the Black King, Sebastian Shaw- not a difficult task, she suspected, due to the man’s notorious weakness for beautiful women, and undermine the position of the current Black Queen, a woman whom her father seemed to truly despise.

Such a promising future would seem to lend itself to a sweet sleep with dreams of glory and power, of her ascendance into the world aristocracy of the Hellfire Club. But she found whenever she slept, she had strange dreams of rage and fire, of something trapped deep inside her longing to escape. Of a great and burning bird that yearned to find its home again, somewhere far beyond the stars.

**_Remember who you are._ **

**_Remember what you are._ **

**_Remember._ **

_I know who I damn well am! I am Madelyne Pryor, the daughter of Nathaniel Essex, soon to be Black Queen of the Hellfire Club._

**_That is not your true name._ **

**_You were born as someone else._ **

**_You will rise as something else altogether._ **

**_Remember._ **

Madelyne positively roared with anger, grabbing her wine glass and hurling it against the wall. “I know who I am, damn you! Get out of my head!” She clutched the counter, trying to steady herself as the room began to shake around her. “I know who I am.” She began repeating to herself as a mantra. At first the voice sounded foreign, softer, warmer, but as she repeated it, it took on the cool edge of her own voice.  _I know who I am._

 

**Neutral Space, heading towards Earth:**

 

 ** _Remember._** Lilandra thought, trying to project the thought into the Avatar’s mind. _I can only pray that she does. She is our only hope._ The thought that someone had perverted the Avatar, the living vessel of her Goddess, made her blood burn. _When I am Majestrix, whoever did this will pay._ They would suffer, as only an enemy and heresiarch should. But first, Lilandra would have to reach Earth and do whatever she could to help the Avatar. _Goddess give me strength. I will need all of it._

Removing the psi-projector which allowed her mind to traverse the spaceways, Lilandra whispered a simple prayer before getting up and walking down the length of the  _Starjammer_ to the bridge, where Captain Summers and the main officers of his crew were.  _Those few who were brave enough to follow me when D’Ken emerged triumphant at the Gathering of the Blood._ She would never forget their courage, and all of them would be richly rewarded when she ruled. Lilandra took her seat, looking out at the expanse of space.

“How are we progressing, Captain?” Lilandra asked. She wished she were trained in stellar cartography, so she could recognize their location from the pattern of the stars, but that was an arcane art that required psychic talents different from hers and many years of training. As one of the Royal Blood, she had other responsibilities.

“Good enough.” Captain Christopher Summers answered. “We should beat the Imperial fleet by a few days. It always takes time for them to get ready, and they’ll be leaving from the Throneworld. With luck, we can find her and do … whatever we need to do before D’Ken arrives. And hope she does not choose him.”

Lilandra sighed softly. She knew that the Captain was not truly one of the faithful, though like all fo the crew of the ship, he’d said the oath which promised his soul to the Goddess.  _I can only hope he finds the light. I will not kill or enslave those who do not believe. It accomplishes nothing. The Light will shine, regardless._

“Be careful of how thou speakest of the Goddess and her avatar, Captain.” Commander Raza warned, though Lilandra knew he had resigned himself to the need to be commanded, temporarily, by an unbeliever. “She is held in reverence by trillions.”

“I have all the respect in the world for the Shi’ar faith.” Captain Summers answered. “But we have far more important things to do than argue theology. Goddess, super powerful cosmic being, whatever. We have to find her and help her out, before D’Ken and the Imperial Fleet finds her and blows up my homeworld in the process.” His face tightened and his hands balled into fists as he thought about D’Ken, and what he’d done to his wife. “And maybe, just maybe along the way, that bastard will get what’s coming to him. With … respect, Majestrix Lilandra.”

“There are many things we disagree about, Captain, but the desire for my brother to get what he deserves is not one of them. He is mad, cruel and dangerous. He disgraces our faith, he insults our ancestors, he soils the name of the Shi’ar. She will understand. The Goddess will give us the justice we seek.” Lilandra declared.

“That will be a sweet day, Majestrix, but we’ve got to survive, first.” Captain Summers looked over at Hepzibah. “ _Madmoiselle,_ if you would, take us into hyperdrive. We’ve got a race to win.”

Lilandra took a breath. “I will attempt to contact someone on the planetary surface and explain our intentions to them. Someone, perhaps, who is close to the Goddess’s Avatar.”

“As good of a plan as any, really, Majestrix.” Captain Summers shrugged. “Can you use the projector while we’re in hyperdrive?”

“It is risky, but possible. I may be moving, but I’m searching a relatively fixed point.” Lilandra replied.

“I can’t tell you otherwise, Majestrix.” Captain Summers sighed, though he clearly didn’t like the idea much. “Please be careful. You’re our only hope for sanity in this galaxy.”

Lilandra got up neatly and looked at him for a moment. “And that is where you are wrong. I am not the only hope for the future. The Goddess is.” And with that, she turned and went towards the psi-projector again, hoping to find someone who could help her.

 

**Cerebro, X-Mansion:**

 

Charles Xavier was having no luck in finding either Jean Grey or Scott Summers, despite an exhaustive search on Cerebro for either of them. His brow dripping with sweat, he was just about ready to remove the apparatus when he suddenly heard a psychic voice coming to him through Cerebro.

**_Help. I need your help._ **

Charles narrowed his eyes and concentrated, trying to find the source of the transmission with Cerebro, but it was too far away. It didn’t sound like either Jean or Scott, but perhaps whomever this is was connected somehow, or was simply another person who needed help.

_Who is this?_

**_I am the Majestrix Lilandra Neramani of the Shi’ar Imperium. I need to find a young woman of your world. Her name is Jean Grey._ **

_How do you know Jean?_

**_I do not know who she is, in truth. I only know what she is, what she is to my people._ **

_What is that?_

**_The Avatar of the Phoenix Goddess, the Light of the Universe. We must find her. She needs our help. Someone has taken her and twisted her thoughts. I fear for what may happen as a consequence of it._ **

_Tell me everything that you know. You must understand, that I have little stake in your Goddess, but much and more in Jean Grey herself._

**_The first thing you must know is that the fate of your world depends on us finding her._ **

 

**Shi’ar Throneworld:**

 

“Everything is in readiness, Majesty.” Gladiator knelt respectfully before his Emperor, as did the other members of his Imperial Guard, composed of the most powerful and respected warriors of the Shi’ar Imperium, gathered together, possessed of absolute loyalty to whomever held the Phoenix Throne. Gladiator himself had power as great as virtually any being in the cosmos, but was sworn only to ever use his might in the service of the Shi’ar Imperium and its ruler.

D’Ken nodded sternly. “Very good. We shall depart forthwith then. No doubt my rebellious sister and her band of pirates is headed towards this planet as well. We must move swiftly. If we do, we may be able to secure the Goddess and eliminate the most serious opposition to my rule, all at once. What say you about being the executioner of my treacherous sister, Gladiator?” D’Ken sneered down at him.

Gladiator swallowed, glad it was respectful to keep his eyes averted from his Majesty. It was well-known he had been fond of Lilandra since she was a young girl. He had hoped she would accept D’Ken’s rule and take some position in his court. Where she could be safe, where he could guard her rather than hunt her. But he had sworn a holy oath to uphold the laws of the Imperium and the will of its ruler. “I would do my duty, Majesty. Without hesitation.”

“Of course you would. You are, as ever, a faithful creature.” D’Ken chuckled faintly. “Hopefully Araki has seen to it that my favorites among the harem have been taken on the flagship as well. It is not meet that a Majesty’s bed should be empty, even on a voyage of conquest such as this is.”

“I have not spoken to him, Majesty. No doubt he has faithfully executed your command, just as I would.” Gladiator replied.

“No doubt.” D’Ken sneered. “I do hope the Goddess wills it that this Terra should burn. It’s been too long since I have seen a Starcracker in operation.”

Gladiator had to suppress a shudder at that. He too, had seen the dreaded Starcracker in operation, a weapon which could make any star go into a supernova, destroying entire systems in a single blast. It was a power that he regarded as truly hideous, and yet, terror of it had kept the other powers of the galaxy from banding together to resist the spread of Shi’ar enlightenment throughout the galaxy.  _It would be a better galaxy with no need to use such weapons, but we are not fortunate enough to live there. It is better that we have that power than that others do._

“What do you think the Goddess would desire, Gladiator?” D’Ken asked, his eyebrow raised.

“I do not presume to know the will of my rulers or my Goddess, Majesty. I live to execute it.” Gladiator replied piously.

“Of course not.” D’Ken sneered, clearly unhappy with the response. But even he hesitated to sanction the commander of his Imperial Guard. “We will begin our voyage to Terra tonight. If the locals are wise, they will swiftly hand over the Goddess to me.”

 


	2. Promises and Prisoners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madelyne Pryor is introduced to the rest of the Hellfire Club, as the X-Men begin to discover the mystery around the disappearances of Jean Grey and Scott Summers. The trail of evidence, however, leads right to the doors of the Hellfire Club- how will the X-Men fare against the powerful and mysterious organization? Meanwhile, a rather unexpected group of heroes finds themselves hunting the Starjammer.

**ederal Holding Facility, Southeastern United States:**

 

“I heard the shapeshifter runs around naked all the time and that’s how she simulates clothes and stuff. Shoulda just kept her that way.” One of the guards opined- his name was Jim, Raven remembered and the other noticeable quality about him was that he stank of tobacco and had the veiny red nose of an alcoholic. _Once again, Uncle Sam hires only the finest._

“You’re a perv, Jim.” Bill shook his head. Bill was a little more upright, the sort of man who justified his miserable job to himself with the belief that he was doing something important. “She killed a dozen Secret Service people. One of them X-Men got her. Her knee sure fixes up fast, though. Got set by the doctor and it’s already halfway to healed.” He shook his head. “What’s the world coming to, every third person has superpowers.”

Raven didn’t particularly relish the verbal reminder of the state of her kneecap- it was indeed healing nicely, but it’d be days before she could rely on being able to move quickly.  _What the hell kind of idiot mistake was that, anyway? I should have killed that woman the moment she revealed herself as a threat._ She chuckled inwardly, though.  _That or given her a good spanking. You’re not the only perv in the room, Jim._ Distracting herself from the pleasant thought, she looked around the room she was in. Bare, spartan.  _Oh boy, I get to be interrogated right away. What a fucking joy._

She took a breath and steeled herself for whatever was to come next, whether it be simple interrogation of some sort of torture.  _I can’t give in, I can’t give up. I let my Brotherhood down and I need to find them and save them. Unless Magneto has found them. And if so … why hasn’t he found me yet?_ She took a breath, going through all the logical reasons why that was the case. It hadn’t been very long, it could have been that he simply hadn’t found her yet- he had means of detecting mutants, but it was a large country and they’d all headed off in different directions, though they were all destined for the Vault.  _Perhaps he’s waiting for us to congregate there so he can rescue us in one go._ That seemed the most logical.

The door clicked and opened and a lanky, middle-aged, red-haired man walked in, sneering at Raven the moment he saw her. The door closed and he took a comfortable seat at a desk next to her.

“Raven Darkholme.” Henry Peter Gyrich started. “Or do you prefer to be called Mystique? I’ve got time. I can afford to be courteous. And really, if you cooperate, this need not be unpleasant.”

He’d positioned himself just out of easy spitting range, Raven noticed with mild disappointment. Instead, however, she smiled sweetly as she faced him. “You can call me whatever you like. I’m more interested in what you’ll be screaming, later, as I choke the life out of you. Whatever you’re planning to do, it won’t make a difference, because I’ll just be imagining my hands wrapped around that skinny little whitebread throat, squeezing, as you kick and squirm underneath me. Until your eyes bug out so much they practically pop out of your head. Until you stop moving and I take out my gun and obliterate every physical trace of your ugly, lying head.”

Gyrich squirmed visibly in his seat.  _Fucking coward,_ Raven thought. No matter what he did to her now, she’d already won. She knew it. He knew it. Bill and Jim knew it.

“Right … I’m just going to start asking questions and if I do not get satisfactory answers, we’ll go straight to enhanced interrogation.” Gyrich adjusted his glasses.

“Whatever floats your boat, sweetie.” Raven replied in an exaggeratedly velvety voice.

 

**Foundlings Orphanage, Nebraska:**

After a battery of tests both painful and exhausting, Scott had been removed, under heavy sedation from his restraints and placed into a room that looked exactly like the one he’d shared with three other boys all those years ago- the only difference was that the two bunk beds had been replaced with a single one, fit for an adult. _Essex has gone to a great amount of trouble to simulate it, but then again, he knew what the original looked like, didn’t he?_ Everything was precise, down to the posters on the walls.

It was the last thing that Scott wanted to remember- the humiliation, the isolation, regular beatings, the constant, never-ending rejection. Even before his powers had emerged, no couple had wanted to adopted. He was too traumatized, too scarred by a horrible accident he knew almost nothing about. Hoping against hope, he’d managed to get himself up to investigate the room, trying to see if there were any exterior openings he could use, but he couldn’t find any way to escape.

_He said he’d let me go. But it could have been a lie, I can’t count on it. And I have to find a way to help Jean._ No matter what the testimony of his own senses, or the man who had imprisoned him here suggested, he couldn’t believe that Jean wasn’t in there somewhere. The woman he’d loved was far too resilient to just give in and be swept away in such a manner. _The Professor, if nobody else, could help. He knows telepathy better than anyone._ Scott took a breath. He needed a plan, a coherent plan of escape. He needed to figure out something, anything, about the passageways underneath the orphanage. Once free, if he could find his way upstairs, he’d know how to escape.

There was a soft _whoosh_ of air as the door opened and a slender young woman with silvery-gold hair and unsettlingly intense blue-grey eyes walked in with a tray, with a plate of food and drink on it. Scott had only seen eyes like that on one person before- _Magneto._ Scott started to wonder if Magneto had anything to do with this, but it seemed spectacularly out of character.

“Father told me that you would be hungry.” The young woman- really more like a girl, Scott couldn’t imagine her being more than about eighteen, set down the tray near him. She regarded him a little warily, as if he wasn’t sure if he would attack her or not.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Scott said, his voice raspier than usual. “What’s your name?”

“Annie. My name is Annie.” The girl answered quietly.

“Do you have to come a long way to give me food?” Scott asked, in the gentlest voice he could.

“Not too far, just up the stairs from the kitchen. Where the other kids used to live. But Daddy sent the other kids away years ago.” She watched him for a moment. “You can eat, you know.”

Scott’s guts were wound tight, and it’d be hard to get anything down, but he knew it would be a good idea to keep his strength up. He reached for the drink first. He would’ve preferred water over milk and tea, but both were liquid. They’d do in a pinch. “Do you know what your Father does down here?”

Annie shook her head, her eyes wide. It was clear from her response that she’d been cautioned against it, that she was scared to ask. “Annie. I have a friend who needs my help, right now. I can’t stay here.”

“I … I’d have to ask Daddy. I’m not supposed to let his guests leave by myself. I can’t, or he’ll put me to sleep again and make me little, and I’m almost grown-up now.” She looked at him again, before wrenching her gaze away. “I can’t. I’m sorry. Please, eat.” She quickly started to scamper out the door. Scott got up immediately after her, moving quickly enough that he got there in front of her, but when he tried to leave through the seemingly open door, an electric pain shot through all of his nerves and he was flung several feet away from it.

Annie looked back again, murmuring  _I’m sorry_ again before, she left, seemingly effortlessly.

 

**X-Mansion War Room:**

 

“I must confess, X-Men, that the evidence gathered points towards something very disturbing indeed. It seems likely that someone has managed to gain some manner of control or influence over Jean- apparently using her as a lure for Scott.” Xavier looked exhausted and drawn, both from overextending himself on Cerebro and also from simple worry. “I’m afraid there is an additional complication as well.

Last night, I was contacted by an alien being who is also searching for Jean Grey. She claims to be the rightful heir to an interstellar empire, and that Jean Grey is the living avatar of their deity. The Phoenix Goddess. It all sounds absurd, but the fact is that I have seen the Phoenix inside of Jean. Her name was Lilandra, and it appears that her brother, a usurper, is searching for the Phoenix and is approaching Earth with a powerful fleet, intent on taking Jean, even if it means destroying the entire planet.”

“Well, it looks like our weekend plans are well-established.” Hank finally replied after a moment of shocked silence. “We need to find Jean and Scott, immediately. Professor, Katherine and I may be able to make some improvements to Cerebro’s programming that may allow you more efficiently to find someone being masked from it. To allow you to find a blank spot, as it were.”

“That’s great. What do the rest of us do? I’m not really feelin’ like sitting around.” Logan growled.

“We don’t.” Ororo answered firmly. “We follow any clues we can on the ground. None of us can afford to be idle while people we love are in danger. Logan, if there’s anything you know about these people that may be helpful.”

Logan nodded. “Yeah, I’ll tell ya what I know. Dunno how much it’ll help, though. I used to do wetwork with some of `em. Real nasty characters.”

“This is New York, not really my old grounds, but I know a few people up here. I take Logan with me, maybe, and we go ask a few questions.” Remy drawled with a bit of an insolent grin on his face. “I be the good cop, he be the bad. They know anything, they spill.”

“Yeah, I bet you know plenty of lowlifes, Cajun.” Logan growled.

“Anything at this point is worth a try.” Ororo fixed both of them with a little glare. “I expect you will work as a team, and there won’t be any petty fights.”

“Hey, I got my eyes on the prize.” Remy put up his hands. “You won’t get any trouble from me.”

“The rest of us will continue searching around the site and in the city. We cannot afford to hesitate. We need to find Jean and Scott. And then we shall deal with this … individual who contacted you, Charles. I think we can all agree that we have no intention of handing over a dear friend of ours against her will.” Ororo looked over at Charles, who nodded.

 

**Hellfire Club Headquarters, New York:**

 

“Madelyne, you take my breath away.” Essex smiled as she strode into the room in the dress that had been selected for her for her grand introduction to the Hellfire Club. She strode up to him, pressing light kisses to each cheek before grinning radiantly at him.

“Thank you. Hopefully Mr. Shaw feels the same way.” Madelyne’s grin turned into something wicked. “I suppose it will have to, since my telepathy won’t work on him.”

“Oh, I assure you, you’ll have no trouble charming the man.” Essex replied, appraising her more dispassionately. He was quite certain of it. His Madelyne would have little difficulty in winning Sebastian’s affections and through her, he would control the man. “And once that is accomplished, we can ensure that Selene’s reign as Black Queen is finished. And you, my precious girl, will be her replacement. How does that sound, Madelyne? To be royalty?”

“It’s everything I ever wanted.” Which was  _everything._ Fame, wealth, influence, Madelyne wanted it all, but more than anything, what she craved was  _power_ .  _And one day, Father, I may even have power over you._ She ensured, however, that her radiant smile didn’t drop one bit.

“And very soon, my dear, it will all be yours.” Essex assured her as he offered her his arm. “Are we ready then?

“Of course, Father.” Madelyne beamed as she slipped her arm into his. “Let’s go meet the Hellfire Club.”

Together, they went down the long corridor separating their guest room from the meeting chambers of the Inner Circle. They passed by several guards, who ushered them through without difficulties. Madelyne peered at the art on the walls, many of the pieces having themes of decadence and indulgence. Some of the artworks were clearly the works of Great Masters, and she had little doubt that they would sell for millions, where they available for auction. Finally, they were ushered in through another set of hardwood doors into the room where the Inner Circle had gathered.

Madelyne looked around at the figures gathered around the table. The table was arranged so the Kings and Queens sat at the head, with the lesser ranks gathered around. There were a few empty seats, as Essex had told her there always were- Madelyne did not have a formal title yet, but her father had been assigned the rank of Black Rook, and she would sit with him at this gathering. She disregarded the lesser figures, the short fat man occupying the rank of Black Bishop, the partly-Asian young man in the seat of White Bishop and the White Rook, an admittedly startlingly handsome man who was staring at her goggle-eyed, as if not sure what to do or say.

The White King and Queen sat on the left side of the table’s head, the White King a tall, slender, blond man with a thin face and a nasty glint in his eyes- barely concealing his hatred for everyone else in the room.  _No one’s friend,_ Madelyne thought,  _and not one I’m likely to charm._ The White Queen had the appearance of someone who had worked very hard to maintain a certain standard of beauty- immaculate blonde hair, blue eyes, a figure that seemed a little too perfect to be entirely natural and a coolly intelligent gaze that was sizing her up.  _A formidable woman, this White Queen. She’s suspicious of me, already._

Even seated, the Black Queen was tall and were she to rise, Madelyne would guess she would be fully six feet tall. If the White Queen’s beauty was one that was carefully manicured, the Black Queen’s was a savage, wild one, with a colossal mane of dark hair that spilled out behind her, cruel eyes and even crueller lips. Madelyne had heard her father mention that she was very old, and indeed, she could imagine primitive peoples worshipping her. She looked like she would revel in blood sacrifice. _I’ll be a fool to undestimate her,_ Madelyne thought.

Finally, her gaze turned to the Black King, the Lord Paramount of the global Hellfire Club. Sebastian Shaw was broadly middle-aged, about fifty years old, though his body betrayed absolutely no signs of aging. He looked as if he were carved out of granite. Dark eyes settled on her, lingering on her curves.  _The Black King likes what he sees,_ Madelyne decided. There was a woman standing beside him, who appeared to be analyzing her every move, coolly, almost robotically.

“Esteemed lords and ladies of the Hellfire Club, allow me to introduce your newest candidate for promotion into the Inner Circle, my precious daughter, Ms. Madelyne Pryor.”

 

**Streets of New York:**

 

“Patch, _mon ami,_ me and my friend, we are wondering if you could help us with some information.” Remy drawled, thicker than usual, a great smirk on his face, twirling playing cards idly in his hands.

Patch, a stout man of medium height and a black eyepatch covering his left eye, stared at Remy. “I’m not telling you anything. I tell you what, you and your friend, you got ten seconds to get out. If you do that, we don’t follow you. You stick around, I feed what’s left of you to the fishes, yeah?”

“You see, Patch, that’s a real shame. You see, Remy’s a pretty nice guy. He like giving his old friends all the chance they can get. Monsieur Logan? Not so nice, I’m afraid.” Remy’s voice dropped. “Maybe they don’t recognize you, Logan. Best give them a reminder.”

Logan’s face broke into a fanged grin and popped the claws on both of his wrists. “Recognize me now, bub? So how’s about you sit down and tell us what we want to know.” Patch’s guards started shrinking back in fear. He walked over to Patch, putting his claws directly into the man’s face. “Because you know and I know, if there’s blood, it’s gonna be yours.”

“... just ask me the fuckin’ questions.” Patch blurted out shakily.

“Anyone been sniffin’ around for muscle lately? We got a couple of our friends that have gone missing, and we want to find them, fast.” Logan growled, pushing Patch down onto the ground roughly. “Jim Greycrow, Philippa Sontag and Victor Creed were workin’ for the guy who kidnapped them. Now, apparently, you do a lot of middleman work for people looking for mutant muscle. So, anyone hire them?”

Patch’s face screwed up. “Yeah. I don’t know his name, I don’t ask for them. Tall, pale, English. Lookin’ for Creed, anyway. Wait. Essex. They called him Essex.”

Logan growled again. “You better be  _real_ sure of that. Anything else you know, bub?”

_Essex? My God._ Remy had to force himself not to show any external sign of his feelings at hearing that name. From the looks of it, Logan had his own history with the man. Remy’s hand balled into a fist and then he heard a familiar charging sound. The playing card in his hand was glowing, almost pure white in the light.  _If Essex is involved in this, we are in deep._ “Logan.”

“Not now, Cajun.” Logan snarled as he brought his claws up closer to Patch’s face again. “I’m gonna ask you one more time.”

“... I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me anything.” Patch looked up at Remy for a moment. “Maybe ask your friend there.”

Logan looked over at Remy for a long moment. He could smell the fear on the younger man, the apprehension, the tension in his guts. “Oh, don’t you worry about that-”

It was then that the communicator beeped. Logan pressed it. “Yeah, Logan here.”

“We’ve managed to find a hidden mutant signal. Not far from your current location, actually.” Hank’s voice spoke through the projector. “Based on the strength of it, I’m guessing it’s Jean’s. She’s … she’s at the Hellfire Club Mansion on Fifth Avenue.”

Logan retracted his claws and looked up at Remy for a moment with a deep scowl on his face. “You an’ me, we’re not done.”

 

**Hellfire Club Mansion:**

 

Finally, there was a brief recess in the introductions, allowing the members of the Inner Circle a moment to go about and discuss their own affairs. For Warren Worthington, however, the meeting had rapidly dissolved into a nightmare. He’d left the gathering as hastily as he could, to consider what to do. _That’s Jean. They’ve taken Jean and done something to her._ He realized there was nothing else he could do. He prepared to pull out his phone, ready to contact the Mansion and tell them what had happened. But as soon as he pulled it out, he found his muscles weren’t able to do it.

“Emma. Please. We can’t let them do this. You know as well as I do that Jean wouldn’t let herself be involved in this, not lie that.” Warren’s eyes settled on her.

“And what will contacting the X-Men do, Warren? Bring bloodshed here, to no one’s lasting benefit.” Emma’s gaze settled steadily on him. “Yes, the good Doctor’s scheme is outrageous, but understand that bringing the X-Men into this will only harm them further. Perhaps, with time, we can find some way around the situation.”

“Emma, that is one of my best friends.” Warren glared at her. “I can’t abandon her. When I joined the Club, it was because I thought it would benefit mutantkind. And I know that the Club sometimes does things that are … morally questionable. But this?” Warren let out a frustrated cry. “Let me dial the damn number.” But instead, his hands forced him to throw the phone away.

Emma crossed the distance to him, hands placed gently on each side of his face. “Warren. Going against the Club like this is  _suicide._ Bring your friends into it and you’ll have their blood on your hands too. You know how powerful we are. We’re not ready yet. When we are, when we’re ready to take power, you have my word, we will do something about your friend, but not before then.”

“You can’t expect me to choose between my ambitious and my friends.” Warren replied firmly. “I’m going to help her, with or without you, Emma.”

Emma actually frowned slightly at that. “I really am sorry, Warren.” His vision became indistinct, blurry as he eventually lurched and fell to the floor, unconscious. She looked down at him. “But you really can’t expect me to choose you over  _mine.”_

 

**Sebastian Shaw’s Private Quarters, Hellfire Mansion:**

 

“I see you’ve already made yourself quite comfortable.” Sebastian grinned as he saw Madelyne lounging on the bed. “A drink?”

“Do you have any good scotch? I want something strong. I want to feel it burn all the way down.” Madelyne replied with a sly grin, one of the straps of her dress falling well down her shoulder.

Normally Sebastian did not deign to pour his own drinks, but he wanted, very much to have some time alone with her. All through the meeting, he’d felt her eyes on him, and more than once, his gaze had wandered over to her. He’d been far from surprised when she’d asked to speak to him, privately, after the meeting had concluded.

“On the rocks, or neat?” Sebastian asked, his eyes roaming over her curves.  _And the Summers boy let a woman with a body like hers slip between his fingers? He’s even more of a fool than I thought._

“Neat. The ice simply gets in the way.” Madelyne answered as Sebastian poured the drinks, passing one into her hand, and raising his.

“To a fruitful relationship.” Sebastian grinned as their glasses clinked together.

“To us and ours.” Madelyne replied easily, taking a sip of the drink, feeling the delicious warmth of it slide down her throat into her stomach.  _The man does have good taste._

“So, now that we’re away from your father, why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for from the Hellfire Club, personally?” Sebastian leaned in close.

“What I want? I want to be your Black Queen.” Madelyne stated boldly. “Surely you’d rather see me on that throne next to you than that Selene woman?”

_She’s not wrong. Selene is a dangerous woman with her own agenda. One I do not fully understand._ “To become Black Queen requires that you prove yourself to the Club. You are, of course, making an excellent start of it, but there’s much and more that is required from one who would rule our Order.”

Sebastian’s lip curled in distaste as he noticed that the phone was ringing.  _Had I not instructed my men to turn it off?_ He glanced over at the phone for a moment.  _Charles Xavier. How interesting._ He looked over at Madelyne for a moment. “My deepest apologies. But feel free to listen in. More of Jean’s old friends.”

Madelyne smirked at that. “They don’t give up. Their frumpy little friend is dead.”

“Hello Charles.” Sebastian answered as he picked up the phone, speaking in a deceptively friendly tone of voice. “I imagine it’s important if you’re calling me at this hour.”

“Sebastian, I implore you to give Jean Grey up into our care. I do not know the circumstances by which she came there, but needless to say, she requires our help.” Xavier’s voice sounded resolute. “If you do not cooperate, I will be left with no choice but to send the X-Men to bring her home.”

Sebastian turned away from the phone for a moment. “He’s looking for Jean Grey. Madelyne, have you seen her?” He smirked cruelly.

“Not recently.” Madelyne replied with an equally cruel grin. “Do tell the old man that we’ll keep our eyes out for her. He must be terribly worried.”

“Sebastian, let me speak with her.” Xavier declared, his voice clearly getting frantic.

“I think not, Charles. Remember how much you owe us. Consider this an unexpected payment on that debt if it makes you feel better.” Sebastian’s voice took on an iron edge. “As for your X-Men, would you really send them to the slaughter thus?”

“Sebastian, this is your last chance. The X-Men are already there. Give Jean up and there does not need to be a confrontation.” It was then that Sebastian heard the intruder alert. He started to laugh, quietly at first but then louder. He picked the phone back up. “Their blood is on your hands.” He then crushed the phone in his hands.

“My dear, I’m afraid we’ll have to continue another time. On the other hand, a wonderful opportunity to prove yourself to the Club has just presented itself.” Sebastian’s grin was positively vicious. “No one attacks the Hellfire Club. No one.”

 

**Outside the Hellfire Club Mansion:**

 

The previously clear night had been shrouded in a thick and heavy fog, which would hopefully mitigate the ability of the Hellfire Club’s guards to spot them as they prepared to enter the building. As for Ororo, she was waiting on confirmation from the Professor that the Club’s Black King, Sebastian Shaw, had declined the final offer of a peaceful resolution. She did not know the man well but from what she’d heard, Ororo truly doubted that he would acquiesce to backing down. _Men like him put their pride and arrogance above all else._

Behind her, the X-Men gathered, ready for whatever they would face once they entered the building. They would go in quietly, using Kitty and Kurt to take people in, after which they would find the sub basements and other secret areas and enter, searching for the signature that they had found on Jean. Once they had found her, they would retreat immediately. There was no room for anything elaborate, nor for further investigating the operations of the Club.

“We should be under no illusions. This is a very dangerous mission, possibly even more so than our mission in Washington.” Ororo looked towards the opulent mansion before them. “However, we cannot hesitate. Jean desperately needs our help. It is absolutely essential that we bring her back to the Mansion, where Charles can give her the help she needs.”

“Trust me, `Ro, I’m more than ready to go bust some skulls.” Logan declared with a distinct scowl on his face. “Nobody takes one of our friends and gets away with it.”

“I’m with Logan.” Kitty declared. “Let’s do this.”

The dark mist that swirled around the Hellfire Mansion was augmented with an impressive crack of thunder, as a bolt of lightning spiralled down to hit the structure, once, twice, and a third time, causing the lights inside the Hellfire Mansion to go out. There was no guarantee that the security systems would be affected, but at the very least, it would increase the disorientation of any guards within. The storm around them would continue for the time being, creating an auditory and visual distraction from the entry of the X-Men.

Kurt disappeared with a  _bamf_ as Kitty gently fell to the ground below, as they both went in to check for any guards at the entry point. A moment later, Kitty peered out from the wall with an all-clear and the rest of the X-Men began to enter the Hellfire Mansion, one by one, phased in through the wall by Kitty or teleported in by Kurt. The fact there was no armed opposition here seemed odd to Ororo, and in truth, made her wonder what lay ahead for them.

_Trap or not, however, we have a duty to our friends. Jean needs us and I will not let her down._

 

**Seedy Bar, Neutral Space:**

 

“I completely forgot how ridiculously potent Andari whiskey is. We are so screwed tomorrow, Rocket. So absolutely goddamn screwed.” Peter Quill emphasized as he bolted down another shot. “Goes down nice, though.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully you didn’t forget how goddamn expensive Andari whiskey is. That’s fourteen credits you just put down your foodhole.” Rocket rejoined, though he swallowed his down nearly as quickly. “Hopefully the others join us soon. I’m tired of waiting around this dumb. Even if it’s got decent booze.”

“Well, in the meantime, why don’t you crack open the Help Wanted ads and maybe see if there’s some paid work for us. I mean, saving the galaxy for its own sake is great, I don’t plan to stop anytime soon, but we’re running a little low in the credits department.” Quill leand back as he flagged over the waitress for another round. “And no Skrulls this time. Little bastards always cheap us out.”

“Right. No Skrulls.” Rocket rolled his eyes. “What you got against Skrulls? At least they don’t create crazy religious- oh hey, speaking of religious nuts, there’s a plum job from the Shi’ar Imperial Office. You ready for this, Quill? Thirty-five million credits to whomever can find and capture the ‘notorious pirate vessel’  _Starjammer_ and return it to Shi’ar space. And if we find and capture a chick called Lilandra on it, we get  _double._ Hey, that’ll keep you drinking Andari whiskey for whole months, Quill.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Quill sighed. “Other than the the other members of our group.”

“I am Groot.” Groot announced, walking up to where they were sitting. Gamora and Drax were not far behind.

“Andari whiskey is poor value. You could drink Shi’ar firewine and obtain twice the alcoholic content per credit ratio.” Drax noted dryly as he sat down. “Have you found work for us? Or are we to get to the main work of vengeance against Thanos?”

“We’ve got work, Drax.” Quill emphasized. “Good work. For the Shi’ar. We’ve got to find some pirate ship called the Starjammer and return to Shi’ar space. With a bonus of double if we find some chick called Lilandra on it and return her alive.”

“You want to do the dirty work for D’Ken?” Gamora asked, eyebrow raised. “He’s not exactly the Nova Emperor.” She looked at the posting. “Lilandra is his sister. He’s probably asking us to take out a rival claimant.”

“It says pirates.” Rocket shrugged. “Pirates are bad. So maybe D’Ken is a self-righteous dick, but hear me out. We capture bad guys for bad guys, there’s still less bad guys in the galaxy. Oh, and also, we get rich. Seventy million credits.”

“I am Groot.” Groot added thoughtfully.

“Exactly.” Rocket exclaimed. “Look, why don’t we at least check it out? See what comes up. And hey, if it’s not what it looks like, then we have another wacky adventure and we figure out another way to pay Star-Prick’s giant freakin’ bar tab.”

“I think it’s worth a shot.” Quill declared. “So how about it? Let’s figure out what the deal is with the Starjammer, and then, as the reasonable, intelligent and upstanding galactic citizens that we are, we’ll take it from there?”

“Fine.” Gamora declared.

“It’s settled then. Guardians of the Galaxy? Let’s go figure out what the hell is up with this Starjammer. Maybe we get rich, maybe we do something good for the galaxy. Maybe we get our asses blown halfway to the Hala. Who knows? No boring days for …” Quill tried getting up before the accumulated effects of eight straight doubles of Andari whiskey hit him. “Okay, new plan. Drax. You’re carrying me to the ship. I like quintuple apologize if I puke on you.”

“You disgust me, Quill.” Gamora rolled her eyes.

“Love you too … ohh man, shouldn’t have had that last one …” Quill got up, more slowly this time, shakily, to his feet.

 


	3. Lords of Hellfire, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-Men come face to face with the powerful Hellfire Club. Will they be able to rally their forces and defeat the powerful Lords of Hellfire? Meanwhile, Scott comes face to face with two rather unusual individuals at the orphanage.

**A Few Days Ago:**

 

Jason Wyngarde didn’t remember anything after the fight with the X-Men at the Capitol, and when he woke up, he was in a dimly lit room- rather than the artificially bright interrogation chamber he’d accepted. In fact, when he sat up and looked around, he realized he was inside a private building of some manner. No police station had panelling that nice on their walls, nor did they have marble countertops and washbasins.

_I’m in the Hellfire Club._ Jason realized suddenly, and he wasn’t sure whether that was a good or a very bad thing. His parents were members in the Club, of some considerable standing- perhaps they’d arranged some sort of bail for him. But what would they say about him running around with the Brotherhood?  _I’ll make them see. Mutants were made to rule, not be ruled. Even the Hellfire Club would not dare to-_

“You should be more careful about what thoughts you choose to hold onto.” A familiar, velvet-in-steel voice said. Emma Frost walked into the room, with Sebastian Shaw at her side.  _Your thoughts aren’t your own, especially not here._

Jason’s eyes widened at that as he looked towards Frost. “You’re a mutant?”

“It seems your powers of basic deduction have not been totally destroyed by your foolish capering with Magneto.” Sebastian smirked coldly as his eyes met Jason’s, in a gaze so intense that Jason could not bear it and he found himself staring at the floor. “Most of the Inner Circle are mutants. But instead of running about like idiots threatening the President, we work behind the scenes, growing our power underneath their noses. Take the Sentinels- Magneto sees them straightforwardly, as a threat. As for me? I made them, I control them, and through them, I control anyone who uses them.”

“... I never knew.” Jason admitted. “I wouldn’t, why didn’t anyone ever tell me?”

“You are being told now.” Sebastian replied archly. “I can see to it that charges against you disappear, but I will only grant you this great favor if I can rely on your loyalty.”

“Mutantkind needs us, Jason. And you. And I think you’ll find the terms of service to us much more pleasing than those to Magneto.” Emma practically purred, though Jason could tell there was icy-cold steel at her core.

Jason just nodded, there was nothing to be done about it. He didn’t want to go to jail, and besides, they were right. The Hellfire Club would be far more pleasing than the Brotherhood. “I won’t let you down.”

“I sincerely hope so, Mr. Wyngarde.” Sebastian replied coolly. “We’ll have need of your power soon.”

 

**Hellfire Mansion:**

 

_Where is everyone else?_

Kurt looked at the handheld scanner in his hand, pointing out Jean’s likely location. It hadn’t changed since they’d gone in, but somewhere along the way, it seemed like everyone else had gone another way. Kurt looked around and realized with a distinctly uncomfortable feeling that he didn’t actually know the way back where he’d come- it looked unfamiliar both ways.  _Something is wrong here._

When the armed guards came down the corner, wearing facemasks that hid their features and opening fire with some sort of energy weapon, Kurt was hardly surprised, though it wasn’t difficult for him to avoid their attacks, teleporting away and rematerializing above a cluster of them, dropping down into the fray. They did their best, with fists and feet and rifle butts, but the fact was that Kurt could lash out not only with his hands and feet, but with his tail, and do all five simultaneously. Drawing his swords from the back once he had a little range, he slashed out at two of the guards, neatly cutting through their rifles, before he kicked them away with his feet and teleported again to avoid another salvo of rifle blasts.

Another flurry of teleporting punches and kick and all of the guards were down for the count. It was then that Kurt heard a faint metallic click along with another normal footstep. He turned around to see a tall, thin blond man wearing a rather elaborate early 19th century inspired frock coat.

“Very nice. I hope you’re well-warmed up, Herr Wagner. My name is Donald Pierce.” The man struck a fighting pose and his fingers grew into foot-long claws. He looked like nothing so much as a praying mantis, ready to strike. “Hopefully you’ll at least prove entertaining.”

“I am not here for your entertainment, sir. You’ve caused harm to friends of mine.” Kurt spun his swords about in his hand and teleported, lashing out with his feet, hoping to knock Pierce out with a single blow. But although his blow connected, the man was clearly unharmed and Kurt had to teleport again in a hurry to avoid being sliced in half by his claws.

Kurt reappeared behind him, aiming to slash at his back, but Pierce turned around with uncanny speed and it was all that Kurt could do to put up his blades to deflect the blow. And while they prevented any harm coming to him, Pierce’s claws neatly sliced through the metal of one of his swords. Almost instantly after that, Kurt was forced to teleport again as Pierce followed up with an even more savage slash.

However, the powerful attack left him open and Kurt planted his boot firmly into Pierce’s back as he rematerialized, sending the man sprawling to the ground. Kurt looked down at him for a moment.

“I do not have time for this.” Kurt finally declared, but before he teleported away, several tentacles shot out from Pierce’s torso and wrapped around him, delivering a massive jolt of electricity, causing him first to go stiff as the power coursed through him and then to go limp as he passed into unconsciousness. 

Donald Pierce looked down at him with a smirk. “Not too bad. I nearly broke a sweat.” He then kicked Kurt’s unconscious body, satisfied at the faint sound of cracking ribs. _I’d finish him here, but we might have use for him._

 

**~**

 

_Hmm. I could swear that these hallways did not follow this configuration earlier._

Hank wondered if there was some manner of security devised to alter the appearance of the building, or indeed, its actual layout, in an effort to confuse and separate any attackers.  _I wonder if I attempt something more drastic if it will defeat their efforts._ Hank suddenly leapt into a door, sending it practically exploding in a rain of splinters and leaving him in what looked incongruously like a tea room, at which a very familiar blonde woman was availing herself of a cup of tea.

“Emma.” Hank’s eyes narrowed. “I’m … disappointed to see you here. That being said, tell me where Jean is and there need be no unpleasantness.”

“Such a gentleman!” Emma exclaimed with a derisive laugh. “But not enough of one not to come into my house uninvited, I see. Of course, if you’d simply sit down, we could perhaps discuss why, if I knew anything about Jean Grey, why I should see fit to help you.”

“What, and leave myself vulnerable to your telepathy?” Hank replied. “Let me be very clear, Ms. Frost.” He growled and then roared. “I could, if I desired, take you out long before you could breach the telepathic defences that Charles gave us.”

“If you desired? Come on then.” Emma sneered, getting up, and Hank felt something in him strain and then  _snap_ and he was on Emma before he could mentally process it, smashing her into the floor.  _My God, what is wrong with me? I could kill her!_ But before Hank could process things properly, he felt something incredibly hard smash into his teeth, and an equally hard force smash into his gut, hard enough to wind him and knock him halfway across the room.

He recovered quickly, spitting out a couple of his teeth- hopefully they would regrow soon, and looked at Emma Frost, who looked like she’d been carved out of a diamond. She looked down at him with a cold sneer, before shifting back into her familiar form. And once again, Hank felt the rage rise and once again he was trying to kill her, tear her apart. But she shifted into her indestructible form just in time and managed to throw him into the other wall.

“What … are you doing?” Hank managed to say, though it came out almost untelligibly.

“I’m stripping away that precious humanity you cling to. Why fight it? It’s what you truly are, deep down. An animal. Let go of it, Hank. Let go.”

Hank could only roar and charged once again, though confused as he was, the attack was clumsy and Emma was able to get out of the way. She grabbed the back of his head and slammed it against the marble countertop, pulverizing a section of it into dust.

“I know as an animal you cannot understand very much of what I’m saying right now, but I think you can understand what I’m doing right now. You see, animals do not understand very much, but they  _do_ understand dominance.” Emma looked at him.

And Hank  _did_ understand. He shrunk back from her, crouching in a submissive pose. Emma shifted back into her flesh form and reached out her hand to idly stroke at his flesh, as her mind flooded into the wreckage of his, sweeping aside anything other than his core knowledge that she was his master.  _You’ll make a fine dog, Hank. And the timing could not be better. We’ve hunting to do, you and I._

 

**~**

 

“Okay … I am totally regarding this as a trap.” Bobby looked around. He was pretty sure that not long ago, he was with just about everyone else, and now he was by himself. He instinctively armoured up as much as he could, growing a sizeable ice bat as well. “So you might as well come out now.”

He wasn’t expecting to be grabbed from  _underneath the floor_ and slammed against it, though his armour managed to protect him from the worst of it. Bobby got up a little uncertainly, looking around, before he felt a rock-hard fist strike against the back of his head, breaking through his armour and nearly knocking him unconscious, making him fall hard against the floor. It was then that his assailant emerged from the ground, like he’d seen Kitty do half a thousand times.

Bobby immediately tried to blast the man with as much ice as he could muster, but to his horror, he realized that the attack simply went through the man harmlessly.  _Oh shit, on shit, he’s evil Eurasian Kitty. Not good._ Bobby threw up an ice wall and tried to get out as quickly as he could, but his attacker simply walked through the wall and continued after him.

_I gotta figure out something._ Bobby tried to concentrate, to turn as much of himself as he could into ice, to become the ice, anything that would give him more power to deal with this man, but soon, he ran into a wall. His attacker stood there, smirking, taking the pin out of a grenade and rolling it casually towards Bobby.

_Oh my god, this can’t be it, please, come on, I have things to do-_

He reached out to freeze the grenade as thick as he could, but it wasn’t enough. The last thing that Bobby heard was shattering ice as everything went black.

 

**~**

 

_Shame I’m here on a mission, this Mansion would make a very good mark._

Remy twirled a charged card idly as he made his way through the Mansion. By the reckoning of his equipment, he was close to where Jean was. He tapped his communicator.

“I’m almost there. Wouldn’t mind some backup, though, in case they got something on the other side.” Which Remy didn’t doubt for a moment. If he had something that valuable on the other side of a door, he’d have heavy security too.  _Then again, I’d make sure it wasn’t just lying there in a room. Better that a thief not see his prize at all than to force him away from it._

“Remy LeBeau.” An all-too familiar feminine voice spoke, in a throaty purr. Remy shuddered and blanched.  _Mon Dieu. Why is she here?_

Selene walked into the room, the door parting lengthwise and heightwise along its mass to allow her in before warping back into place. Her dark eyes settled on him and her lips curved into a faint smile that chilled him to the core. Remy remembered her all too well. The dark mistress who commanded the Guilds in New Orleans, who turned them against each other so that they could never ally against her.  _When I was to marry Bella, it was to end that feud._

Selene had seen the attempt, coming, however, and she’d claimed Bella for his own. A young Remy had sworn vengeance, and tried to attack her, but all it’d done was nearly get him killed.  _And that desire for vengeance, got me in with people just as bad. Maybe worse._

“You take a friend of ours … you give her back and there doesn’t need to be any more trouble.” Remy managed to steady himself, willing himself to match her gaze.

Selene laughed and continued to walk towards him. “Such a precious little boy you are, always finding some poor martyred girl’s favor to wear. So noble. So utterly foolish.” She waved her fingers idly and the floor curled up to fix Remy into place, and neatly cover the charged cards he carried. “But so incredibly precious.” She brushed her hand against his cheek softly- she was so tall she actually looked down at him, had to bend down slightly to brush her lips against his, and she tasted of wine and blood and death and sweet oblivion.

 

**~**

_The Hellfire Club has managed to separate us._

It was a dismaying thought for Ororo, who knew that the greatest strength of the X-Men was their ability to work together. Many of their abilities complemented each other’s nicely and even more than that, they were bound by a complex web of relationships, some more obvious, such as Kitty and Piotr’s romance, and others more subtle, such as the way that Logan and Remy seemed to despise each other but, truthfully, bounced off of each other quite well. Together the X-Men were strong, but separately, they were much more vulnerable.

She maneuvered through the mist of her own creation, looking to find Jean as quickly as possible. Perhaps with a fixed point, she could bring the other X-Men to her. Storm could only hope so. Summoning her strength, she blew down the last door with a colossal gust of wind only to find Jean standing there, dressed in the garish and skimpy clothes that the Hellfire Club preferred.

“Jean!” Ororo exclaimed. “Please … we have no time to waste, we must take you from here.”

“Why would I leave?” Madelyne asked with a scornful tone. “I like it here. I don’t have to hide, I don’t have to pretend I’m someone weaker than I am. If you had any sense, you would join me.”

_I need to figure out a way of incapacitating her without harming her. Perhaps if I summon an arctic wind, it will numb her enough for me to figure out how to proceed._

Just as she summoned the bitter wind, however, Madelyne used her power to pull down a massive bookcase over Ororo, knocking her to the ground, pinning her down, plunging her into the darkness.  _No. Please. Not this._ Ororo kicked and bucked madly, trying to get free, but Madelyne was pressing down on her relentlessly, making it hard to breathe, let alone fight. She tried to summon wind, anything, but all she could think about was being tiny and defenceless again, being crushed by rubble.

It felt like yesterday, the blood and dust and chaos of the attack, being trapped under the wreckage for two days, unable to move, barely able to breathe, half-pressed up against the cold body of her mother. Ever since then, she’d been terribly claustrophobic, she’d never liked being indoors at all and now she felt like she was buried alive. She didn’t have the breath to scream, but soon, found herself unable not to whimper and beg, though the weight did not slacken in the least.

“So weak. I should crush the life out of you entirely, but m’lord has some use for you yet.” Madelyne sneered as the weight continued to press down onto Ororo and she passed into blessed unconsciousness.

 

~

 

Logan was tired of this. He’d known since a few minutes of their entering the Mansion that they were being set up, split apart. _Charley shouldn’t have tried diplomacy. These people ain’t interested in talking. Which suits me just fine, because I ain’t interested in talking either._ A few wandering groups of guards had already come across him and instantly regretted it. He was fairly sure he hadn’t killed any of them, but then again, he wasn’t interested in spending a lot of his time in making sure that they didn’t kill him.

“So you’re the famous Wolverine. You’re shorter than I imagined.” A gruff voice said, and Logan could smell sweat, expensive brandy and a cigar. When he turned around, Logan actually laughed at the sight before him.  _This fat bastard is what’s standing between me and finding Jeannie?_

“Tell you what, bub. You tell me where Jean is and what’s happening here, and maybe, just maybe I let you walk away from this.” Logan popped his claws and snarled, walking towards the man.

Harry Leland took another puff of his cigar and raised up his hand, and Logan could immediately feel everything becoming far heavier. He growled, though, and kept advancing.  _Used to people underestimatin’ my strength._ “You gotta do a lot better than that to stop me.” Logan willed himself to move faster, but his muscles would only move sluggishly, and they were moving slower and slower.

“You’ve got a good forty feet to advance on me. You’re not going to be able to keep standing past about fifteen of them.” Leland stated simply as he swirled his drink about. Logan snarled and kept moving, kept standing, but every move became harder and harder and before long, he stumbled and fell down, realizing that he couldn’t get up. In fact, simply breathing had become an effort.

Leland got up casually, pulling a bottle from a well-stocked liquor cabinet, walked over to Wolverine and poured the liquid over him.

“I’m told you heal quickly. For your sake, I hope that is true.” Leland struck a match and threw it down on Logan, igniting the high-proof alcohol. Logan managed to growl out in pain, but then Leland gestured casually with his hand and the mass simply grew too much, not just for Wolverine but for the floor and Logan found himself falling down, burning, through the basement and sub-basements into the storm sewers.

Leland looked down at the hole that Wolverine had left with him. “I’ll have to write Sebastian a cheque for that.” He went back to his drink.

 

~

 

_I can’t see anybody, and I can’t bloody sense them telepathically either. What the hell has gone wrong with this?_

That they had been thrown into an extremely dangerous situation had become starkly obvious to Betsy, but what made it worse was that they’d been efficiently separated. The communicators didn’t seem to work, and her telepathy seemed as ineffective as any of her other senses in detecting anyone. When she heard soft footfalls she turned around a corner quickly, until she realized who it was.

“Hank.”  _Bloody hell. I was worried there._ “I’m glad to see you. Do you have any idea what’s happene-” When she saw him, she knew something was deeply wrong. When his eyes met hers, there was none of that sparkling intellect or gentle nature she’d found so attractive. He didn’t greet her with words, but simply growled wordlessly and she knew that second what she was.

_Prey._

Betsy broke away and ran as fast as she could, willing a psychic knife into being, but hoping that she wouldn’t have to use it. She reached out with her mind, hoping to figure out what had happened, reverse it, bring back the man who she could have very easily imagined herself truly falling in love with. But all she found when her mind brushed his was animalistic rage and ferocious hunger.

Betsy didn’t honestly know if she was more terrified or enraged.  _I can’t beat him. He’s faster, stronger. If I can’t do anything telepathically …_

_And you won’t be able to do anything, either._

Betsy turned around to see Emma Frost smirking at her. Betsy instinctively, immediately stabbed her with the psychic knife she’d willed into being, and it seemed to work, as Emma screamed and fell to her knees. But as she hit the ground, she did so with a heavy  _clunk_ and was able to stand again immediately, this time seemingly made out of impenetrable diamond. Emma’s face melted from shock swiftly into the familiar sneering grin Betsy had seen so many times before.

“I suppose it’s cruel of me, isn’t it? First Warren, and now Hank. What can I say, you’re only second-rate after all.” Emma smirked maliciously at Betsy.

“At least I’m not a vile bitch like you.” Betsy snarled, finding a strange defiance in the sheer hopelessness of her situation. She spat at Emma, who immediately retaliated with a right cross that sent her flying, on the verge of consciousness. As her vision blurred and faded to black, she at least had the small satisfaction of seeing Frost have to wipe her spit off her gleaming diamond hide.

 

~

 

At least Kitty didn’t have to worry about the walls, which she was certain were moving somehow. She could just glide through them, effortlessly, though she seemed no closer to finding the signal of Jean Grey. _I have a sinking feeling this whole thing was a trap, maybe the Hellfire Club wanted all of us._ It didn’t seem to quite add up, though, the Hellfire Club was a social and economic player, not just a group of supervillains and members of the Club had cooperated with Xavier before. In fact, a former and current member of the team were members of the Hellfire Club and she’d been led to believe that Warren was in a position of some power there.

_None of this makes any sense. What the hell is going on?_

Kitty beeped the communicator, but there was no response.  _Somehow, I’ve got to find the others. Find someone who knows where they are, or where they might be and get them out._ Towards that end, she peered into a room where she saw a tall, pale man going through papers quietly.  _I’m going in,_ Kitty thought as she slipped into the room, moving as fast as she could, until she was on the desk, glaring at the man before her.

She kicked him to the floor neatly and hopped down on top of him, grabbing him by the collar.

“What the hell is going on.” Her gaze was as withering as she could make it. She grabbed him and phased him partway through the floor. Deep down, she knew she couldn’t kill a man for not talking, but she was counting on the fact that he didn’t know that.

“... very well. The Hellfire Club knew you were likely to come … so they acquired a mutant with illusion powers. To separate you all. Take you all down one by one.”

Kitty snarled, picked the man up in phase, and unphasing him, slammed him up against a bookshelf. “And where would they take any prisoners?”

“Subbasements. Laboratories. I’m sure you’ll see them soon enough.” The man’s tone changed somewhat and in response, she merged him partially with the bookshelf.

“Drop the attitude. You can’t hurt me.” Kitty replied coolly. “On the other hand, if I stop phasing you, you’d die, very, very messily.”

“On the contrary.” Kitty saw his body mass flatten before reforming further up her arm, so her arms were sticking in him. She tried to phase, but in horror, realized that she couldn’t. Steel-strong hands with long fingers wrapped around her throat and squeezed, hard. She tried to kick, struggle, phase, but there was nothing she could do. Everything exploded into pain and panic before her vision went fuzzy and then finally faded to black.

When she was unconscious, Essex let her fall to the ground, her arms sliding neatly out of a hole in his torso which almost immediately closed.

“Such a shame, Ms. Pryde. I’d expected better.”

 

~

 

“You’re the last one standing, Mr. Rasptuin.” A familiar, arrogant voice spoke from behind him. Piotr turned around to see Sebastian Shaw, the master of the Hellfire Club standing before him, dressed in the strange neo-colonial clothing the men of the Club preferred on formal occasions. Sebastian slipped off his overcoat and set it aside. “I wonder if that is because of your vaunted strength, or simple luck.”

Piotr growled and turned around to face the man. Though Sebastian was by most people’s standards a big man, Piotr towered over him, far larger in height and weight, not to mention the steely composition of his body at the time. “You’re lying.” Piotr responded. “Jean. Where is she. Give her back and I do not need to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Sebastian replied in mock surprise. “Like we’ve hurt all your friends, Piotr? Like Dr. McCoy, who last I heard is Emma’s newest pet. Or perhaps Kurt, electrified and beaten half to death by Donald. Ah, Logan! Set on fire and sent howling down several subbasements into a sewer. Need I go o-” Sebastian’s boasting was interrupted by a punch from Colossus, that knocked him to the ground.

“I expected harder, boy. Did you know that Hank savaged Betsy half to death? Mmm, or that Mr. LeBeau is now Selene’s puppet! Oh, you should have seen how Ororo kicked and screamed when she was buried alive!” Sebastian laughed heartily before his merriment was interrupted by another punch, a right cross that packed enough force to crumble tank armour like aluminum foil.

Sebastian wiped the blood from his mouth, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I think we need to make you angrier yet. Miss Pryde. The life strangled out of her. You should have seen her kick and struggle. Where were you when she needed you, boy? Perhaps that’s why you can’t muster any passion in your anger. You’ve used it all inside her.”

“Shut up!” Piotr roared as he punched Shaw again, this time catching his nose and eye in the big fist.

Sebastian rose again, though this time he looked a little wobbily on his feet. He spat out blood from his mouth, more of it flowing from his nose. His eye had started to swell and would no doubt turn into a black eye. “Why? I feel like we’re having a meaningful conversation here. I’m rather enjoying this little talk of ours.”

Piotr grabbed Sebastian and slammed him up against the wall, as hard as he could, shattering it in the process. “Shut up!” He grabbed Sebastian’s head and dashed it against the floor, until it cracked. “Where are they?” Piotr roared, raising his fist for another blow. “Tell me now or I’ll finish this with my next blow.”

Sebastian grinned bloodily and spat at Piotr. “No.” However, this time when the fist came whistling down at him, he caught it in his own fist, and squeezed, until he heard a horrific crackling noise and Piotr cry out, this time in pain, rather than rage. Sebastian threw him off and got to his feet.

“If I were a normal man, do you think I’d have survived even one of those?” Sebastian laughed. “You should be honoured. Rare is the man who can beat me bloody. But unfortunately, your very might has given me the power I need to break you.” Sebastian moved, in a blur that Piotr could barely track.

The blows came too fast for Piotr to dodge or block and wherever they hit home, Piotr felt his metallic form denting, bending,  _breaking._ The pain was unbearable. All Piotr could do in the end was to put up his arms around his face as he was punched and kicked until, finally, Sebastian pried apart his arms and sent a fist whistling so quickly and hard down at his face that he could hear the sonic boom.

Sebastian looked down at Piotr’s unconscious body. A thick, silvery liquid oozed from innumerable dents and contusions on his metallic body. He wiped his mouth of blood and, grabbing one of Piotr’s arms, dragged him away, leaving a trail of the silvery fluid behind him as he went.

 

**Foundlings Orphanage, Nebraska:**

 

Scott had completely scoured the area, looking for something, anything that he could use to effect an escape, an air vent, some tools, but with no success. _I’ve got to find a way out of here._ The only person he’d seen so far, though, was Annie, came in once again to drop off food. The only way he could think of to get out was somehow to threaten her, but how could he do that? She was clearly as much of a victim as she was, though she’d obviously been brainwashed in some way. And when it came down to it, Scott couldn’t go through with it.

When the silence was interrupted by commotion, however, Scott immediately jolted upright.  _Something’s happening out there. It sounds like fighting of some kind._ More shocking, however, was the sudden return of a familiar pounding feeling in his head. He turned himself towards the door before a surge of thundering red concussive energy obliterated the door. He closed his eyes again quickly.  _Damn, this is going to be harder going blind._ But Scott didn’t hesitate, leaving immediately.

He heard footsteps down the corridor and turned around, ready to open his eyes.

“Scott Summers, I presume?” A slightly arch, amused voice answered.

“... that’s me.” Scott replied, warily. He felt something tap against his hand, his heart quickening when he realized what it was.  _A visor._ “Who are you?”

“Name’s Cable.” A gruff voice answered from behind the other man. “And this is … Doctor Nemesis.” Cable sounded positively embarrassed by saying the last part. Scott got the impression they’d known each other for a long time.

“Unlike him, I actually have some flair with my ridiculous codenames. Also, I would heartily suggest getting a move on, because I’m quite sure there are more of those ridiculous mutant enforcers where they came from.” Doctor Nemesis sighed. “Much as I’d like to pick this laboratory apart. Really impressive setup.”

Scott put on the visor and looked at his would be saviours. “Let’s go. A … friend of mine needs me.”

“I know about Jean Grey.” Cable replied. He was a bigger man than Doctor Nemesis, though now that Scott got a look at him, the man looked more than a little like him. “We’ll take you to where she is. But first, we have to find the kid.”

“... the kid? You mean Annie?” Scott asked. “Teenage girl. Silvery hair. We should find her.”

“Maybe. If we see her. I meant the baby.” Cable said gruffly, though his voice suggested he was hiding something.

Scott realized then what Cable was getting at.  _The baby. Essex wasn’t lying about that._ He steeled himself for that. “... how do you know about that?” Scott wheeled around to face the two men. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Science. A lot of technically impressive but morally bankrupt science. We really do not have time to explain the whole sordid affair. It’d be quite a bit more effective to actually rescue the baby and maybe take a stab at summarizing on the way back.” Doctor Nemesis spoke, intense dark eyes watching him, almost the only part of his face that was visible behind what looked like a surgical mask. “Do you want to save your friends or not? Because we really haven’t the time to do that and engage in lengthy explanations.”

Scott nodded, his eyes matching those of the two men. “All right. But this is not over, not by a long shot.”

Cable and Doctor Nemesis shared a glance with each other at that line and Scott swore he saw both of them share a little smile between each other.  _Great, I’ve been rescued by some ridiculous buddy cop routine._ On the other hand, he was free and in a position to possibly do some real damage to Essex’s plans, whatever they were.  _And then, I’m coming for you Jean, and nobody is going to stop me. Whatever happens between us, it doesn’t matter, not really. What matters is saving her._

 

**Sewers beneath the Hellfire Club Mansion:**

 

Logan didn’t know what stank worse, the sewer or the smell of his own burned flesh, though thankfully his fall into the drain had doused the flames before they did damage that wouldn’t heal quickly. He was also thankful for his healing factor, because he was quite certain that without it, even if he’d survived the fall somehow, the combination of the sewage and his burn wounds would mean catastrophic and possibly fatal infection. As it was, he was going to need some time to sort himself out. His adamantium bones had mitigated the damage considerably, but his soft tissues were still a mess.

_All right suckers, you’ve taken your best shot. Now it’s my turn._

In the end, however, the main point was that he was still alive. He stabilized himself on a pipe and climbed up out of the water onto the ledge. He looked up at where he’d fallen.  _What they don’t realize is that they’ve made a path for me to get back up. I don’t even have to make an entrance, it’s been made for me._ Logan grinned, popping his claws and digging them into the wall of the sewer, climbing his way back up.

_Bet they won’t be counting on me still being alive. Big mistake on their part._

Logan could feel the painful process of his flesh regenerating itself as he continued to climb. By the time he made it into the basement, he’d be nearly healed. He had a blood debt to pay to the fat man that’d put him down there.  _Next time, the fat man doesn’t get a chance to attack me. He got lucky. Wasn’t smart enough to finish the job, though._

He continued his slow, painful climb up the sewer into the basements of the Hellfire Club. He was sure there would be guards waiting either at the entrance or nearby, but it didn’t matter.  _Hellfire Club won’t know what hit it._

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by my love of the X-Men comics and the world created in it, for which I have to give my undying thanks to Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Chris Claremont, Dave Cockrum and many other fantastic creators. My goal was to create a world which could theoretically be transposed into X-Men comics, with scenes of action interspersed with character development. 
> 
> Thank you for everyone who read the first part of this saga. I hope you enjoy this second chapter just as much.


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